


What it means to say 'I do'

by Masterofpretending



Category: Misfits (TV 2009)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming Out, Fluff, M/M, Marrige, they be growing up and shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 16:08:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18720466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterofpretending/pseuds/Masterofpretending
Summary: Nathan has reached a new level of crazy where the absurdity lies in the normality, the twist being that Nathan is doing exactly what anyone would expect him to do in a six year old relationship.He's getting married.





	What it means to say 'I do'

Nathan is twenty-one years old when he finally realizes it, and honestly, when he does he can’t understand why it took him so long. He’s sitting in Simon’s flat, _their flat,_ skimming through a comic book filled with that dorky shit that only could entertain the nerdiest of nerds. He hears the weird-kid cooking something in the kitchen and by the smell of it, he guesses it's tomato soup. He doesn’t know what makes it all click. Perhaps it’s the domestic nature of it all. Perhaps it’s the fact that the time he and Simon are spending together is no longer filled with insults or fucking. They're acting like they are… shit. Nathan throws the comic aside, leaving the pages all jumbled when he rushes to the kitchen to face Simon with his newfound panic.

 

”Are we supposed to be boyfriends or something?”

 

There is an accusing tone to his voice, because how could Simon let this happen without telling him about it. He never consented to the responsibility of a relationship, even less the added pressure of a gay relationship. Is he supposed to start waving around some flag now? Put rainbow filters on his non-existent facebook and have a level headed debate with every asshole who shouts faggot his way? Nathan doesn’t think he can be that person, doesn’t know if he even wants to. If there is anyone less suitable to be the face for lgbt rights, it’s him, even though, admittedly, he has got a pretty nice face.

 

Simon looks up from the reeking pot, a line between his eyebrows but a smile playing at his lips like he isn’t sure if Nathan is joking or not.

 

”We’ve been living together for almost two years,” he says, settling for a serious tone in case Nathan is in fact not kidding, ”And we’ve been, uh, intimate for longer than that.”

 

”I don’t care how long we’ve been shagging, you should have told me this was- how long Barry, how long have you known?”

 

He’s acting like he’s the star lead of some homoerotic telenovela, one second away from either bursting into tears or committing tragic murder. He does neither however, just staring into Simons blue eyes like he’s supposed to hand over the answers to all the questions he hasn’t even asked yet. Doesn't know how to ask.

 

”I kinda figured you didn’t want to have a whole speech about it,” Simon shrugs, “you said you didn’t like it when I made a big deal about things like that,”

 

”Maybe I did want a speech,” Nathan argues, pouting his lips like an angry child, ”I don’t know, I just feel like this is all coming out of nowhere.”

 

Simon looks at him quietly, doing what he does best and thinks over Nathans words. After a while he takes the other man's hands in his, his skin warm from the humid air in the kitchen.

 

”Nathan Young,” He declares, the stupid grin on his face instantly telling Nathan that he’s about to do some corny ass rom-com shit, ”You are insane in the loveliest way possible.”

 

Nathan feels an equally stupid smile tugging at his own lips, unconsciously leaning into the other man’s touch like he has so many times before. It’s familiar and safe and maybe, Nathan thinks, this is what all that couples-nonsense was about all along. He always thought being together with someone meant having to buy them teddy bears for valentines day and having every anniversary written down in some heart-shaped calendar. But maybe that’s just the capitalists screwing with his brain again. Maybe being a couple just means always having a hand to hold, a chest to sleep on and a shoulder to cry on. Maybe it’s what the two of them have been doing all along.

 

”Everyday you find a new way to turn my life around,” Simon continues, his look so sweetly fond that Nathan has to resist the urge to look away, ”And it would be my pleasure, _my privilege_ , to be your boyfriend.”

 

Nathan narrows his eyes suspiciously, ”Did you have all that planned?” He has to wonder because it really is like a rom-com. All sweet and cliche and perfect. All Simon.

 

Simon just shrugs, places a kiss in the jungle of Nathan’s curly locks of hair, ”do you accept my offer?” He asks.

 

Nathan looks down at their tangled hands, the way they melt into each other like they were cast in the same mold.

 

”Do I get some sort of prize if I do?” He bargains, a cheeky grin on his face.

 

”I was thinking the prize could be commitment and love.”

 

Simon is resting his head against Nathan’s and Nathan can feel the warmth of his words tingle against his cheeks. This is all crossing the line of what he can deal with in terms of emotional vulnerability and he feels himself grasping for a joke, an insult, anything to take the edge off the situation.

 

”Well,  _I_ was thinking a pack of gummy bears and a handy could be pretty neat too.”

 

Their conversation is cut short by the soup boiling over, getting the stove all messy and forcing Simon to let go of his hands to run for a dishcloth.

 

When they, later lay in bed, stomachs full of burnt tomato soup, Nathan can’t help but think about the two of them, being boyfriends and all that. He thought he didn’t do the whole couple thing but obviously he was sorely mistaken. Once again he’s underestimated the ability of Mr. Melonfucker, the bastard sneaking into his life further and further without him even noticing. The first time they met he didn’t even care enough to remember the other man’s name and now, now they are snuggled up in the warmth of their shared beds. Now they’re boyfriends.

 

”I think it’s growing on me,” Nathan admits and Simon raises an eyebrow at his sudden deceleration.

 

”The boyfriends thing?” He wonders and Nathan nods, accidentally bumping his head into Simons jaw.  

 

”The boyfriends thing,” he confirms.

 

~~~

 

Nathan is twenty-five when he decides to propose. His missing a plan and his missing a ring but he wouldn’t truly be Nathan Young if he consistently had his shit together, now would he? He’s pretty sure all that shit is redundant anyways. It’s not like Simon is gonna doubt him just because he doesn't have some diamond thing to prance around with and- okay, actually he probably will doubt him because this is as out of character as Nathan’s ever acted. It’s a new level of crazy where the absurdity lies in the normality. The twist being that Nathan is doing exactly what anyone would expect him to do in a six year old relationship.

 

They’re taking a walk because somewhere along the line they’ve become boring adults. Well, maybe not quite. Nathan is giving the vanilla ice cream that he forced Simon to pay for the best blowjob of its life. It’s not giving much of a response, a shameful contrast to his boyfriends drawn out moans, but nonetheless, he continues to lick it, slowly, up and down. Simon tries not to give his act of public deviance much of a second glance but Nathan knows his inner pervert is enjoying this. The way he lets the white liquid drip from his skin, the way his moaning dramatically because ”this ice cream is just so delicious”, it must be having some effect on the other man, Nathan hopes mischievously. The ”make Simon flustered” in public - game is his favorite one to play and today is no exception. Suddenly Simon stops dead in his tracks and Nathan begins to hope that he’s gonna ask him to fuck him against a tree or something until he too spots what the other man is looking at.

 

”Can you believe it's been so long?” Simon says, a thousand miles away as he lets his eyes rest on the old Community Center.

 

It feels weird just calling it the Community Center, it was so much more when you really think about it. For Nathan, it was a home and for Simon, it was the first place he found friendship and, eventually, love. He still remembers those tacky orange jumpsuits that never came in anyone's right size and he remembers hating how it still felt right, like he was supposed to be there with the rest of the group. All of them fit together despite being pieces all from different sets of puzzles. He remembers using most of his time trying to find new and creative ways to piss everyone off. He remembers competing with Curtis, the two of them racing the empty halls in wheelchairs. He remembers his weird kinship with Alisha, how they were always too alike to ever be friends yet always ended up on the same side in group arguments. The side that usually didn't care about someone getting hurt or fucked over as a result of their actions. At least Nathan always knew he was a selfish twat, Alisha was still in sweet denial. But most of all he remembers Kelly. Her scraped back, dirty blonde hair and round earrings. She had the hardest exterior of them all and yet she was the sweetest. It’s no wonder he had a crush on her, he thinks, he always liked a girl who could hold her liquor and tell him to shut up when he needed to hear it. It ended up a bit awkward, the whole ”I think I see you more as a brother”- thing kinda forcing a halt in Nathans attempts to shag her. But he’s glad they stayed friends, not knowing how to spend the breaks in the coffee shop without having someone to text and occasionally send funny cat videos to. She’s getting herself through nursing school and Nathan never realized she was perfect for the job until he saw her in action. She’s cut-throat not taking any shit from the addicts bullshitting their way to renewed pills or the rude ones who aren’t so discreet about the fact that they’d rather be taken care of by a man or at least a woman who wasn’t so… well, who wasn’t Kelly. She’s professional but kind and soft when she needs to be, always giving the sick kids nicknames and the lonely seniors some exclusive hospital-gossip. Nathan doesn’t like the hospital, not because he’s scared of death, obviously, it just reminds him that other people are fragile, breakable, always on the verge of death. It reminds him that it’s where Simon will eventually end up. If not in a hospital bed, withering away until nothing’s left, then down in the morgue, examined and analyzed to figure out where it all went wrong. It reminds Nathan of every way he won't be able to save him.

 

He looks at Simon now and is struck by how much has changed since the two of them met that first day of community service. His hair isn't a combed down mop anymore, cut shorter on the sides and ruffled in the front. His jawline has gotten harsher with the years, not that Nathan minds, and his rocking a bit of stubble, something the past him wouldn’t even dare trying. He’s beautiful, Nathan thinks and it hurts, knowing that he can’t hold onto it forever. But it’s a good pain for once. The type of pain that tells you when something is important. And maybe it's that pain or the fact that they’re back where it all begun that makes Nathan say,

 

”Would you mind marrying me?”

 

~~~

 

Nathan might have been a bit naive to how this whole marriage thing would work. He knows he has to get them rings eventually but he didn't know it would cost him half a years salary and then some. He works double shifts and triple shifts and when he gets home his face aches from smiling at customers who don’t deserve any of his faked kindness. In some twisted sense of irony, his hard work earns him a promotion and suddenly he’s in charge of a bunch of zit-filled, hormonal teenagers who’d rather be sexting than doing any work whatsoever. To be fair, so would Nathan, but he can’t afford to slack off, not now when he’s finally got something to look forward to. A goal. A future.

 

Simon’s parents, bless their rotten, evil, hearts, are paying for half of it. They don’t like Nathan, they’ve made that quite clear from the moment they saw him, but they can’t accept their son getting married in a courthouse like some underprivileged savage. They want a proper ceremony even if they can’t get a proper bride, not that Nathan would object to wearing a dress. He has a looming suspicion he’d look really fit in a white, embroidered v-line and shining high heels. To his disappointment Simon doesn’t even crack a smile at the idea, too afraid that his joke has any edge of sincerity to it.

 

Amongst all the cake-trying and flower picking, Nathan still has one thing he’s been putting up ever since the proposal. He takes a deep sigh before he knocks on the door and listens to the familiar, harsh footsteps of his mother.

 

”Nathan!” She exclaims and for once she actually looks happy to see him.

 

Nathan figures it’s been a while since he last caused her any big trouble and he suspects he’s more lovable when he isn’t a constant source of headaches. He lets her bring him into a brief embrace before she ushers him to get inside. The kettle is put on and biscuits are carefully laid down on a white little platter like she knows he has something important to tell her. He lets the humming sound of the boiling water calm his nerves, clear his thoughts from all the different ways this is doomed to end badly.

 

She looks just like she did last time they saw each other about a month ago. Healthier and more energetic than when Nathan still lived back home but with more gray hairs and wrinkles. It suits her in a way, to get older that is, like she’s finally finding the time to be her.

 

”Mum,” he says after taking a careful sip of the scolding earl gray, ”You won’t believe this but I’m tying the knot, I mean I’m getting married, uh- to Simon.”

 

As he stumbles through the words he barely notices his mother tearing up, her green eyes, the ones she passed down to him, getting wet. She puts down the cup so abruptly that some of the tea spills over on the white tablecloth, letting her trembling arms lock Nathan in a tight grip. It’s nothing like the quick hug she greeted him with, nothing like their usual hugs and Nathan doesn’t quite know what to do at first. He just lets himself be hugged, tuning out to his mother's heartfelt speech about how proud she is that he’s finally settling down and how Simon is amazing and good for him and everything he already knows.

 

It isn’t until she asks, ”have you told your father yet?” that he’s brought back to reality, pushing himself out of her suddenly suffocating embrace.

 

It’s not like he has the worst relationship with his dad, at least they’re on speaking terms, but the idea of telling him about this, about Simon, makes his stomach turn. They usually meet up once in a full moon, letting idle small talk fill the silent room between steady gulps of beer. It was painfully awkward in the beginning but Nathan had made a promised to Jamie to at least try to keep their broken family together. It’s the first promise he’s made to anyone in his family that he intends to keep. The first and last.

 

They talk about the latest game and Nathan pretends he gives a shit about who wins and loses because he knows if he rooted for anything else than the Republic of Ireland national football team, it would only give his father yet another reason to finally disown him. Nathan avoids asking about any possible new girlfriends and is relieved when his dad returns the favor. The closest they ever get to touch the subject of relationships is when his dad asks him ”So, there’s no special bird in yer life yet?” to which Nathan just shrugs, neither denying nor confirming. In his mind it’s not the worst lie he’s ever pulled, Simon isn’t a bird by a literal or symbolic meaning. The only reason he feels guilty about lying is because he knows it breaks Simon’s heart, makes him feel like he's not good enough. But that's the thing, Nathan reasons, he’s too good. His dad doesn't deserve to have an opinion about the two of them, doesn’t get to raise an eyebrow, doesn’t get to make demands or ask questions.

 

”Who said I was telling him shit?” Nathan huffs and his mother looks pleading like she always does when she’s about to ask him to do something she knows he’ll refuse.

 

”I know he’s difficult, I mean Christ, I’ve lived with the bastard,” she says, placing a steady hand on his shoulder, like she wants to hug him but is afraid that he’ll pull away again, ”but he’s still your father, he’d want to know.”

 

Nathan groans but doesn’t lean away from her touch, ”I can’t promise anything,” he says because his promises are reserved for the only person in his family that hasn’t managed to find a way to disappoint him yet. (Well, the whole dying-thing wasn’t very nice but who is he to blame Jamie for being a horny teen doing what horny teens do.)

 

“Thank you,” his mother says.

 

~~~

 

They decide to have a joint bachelor party because at this point who cares about the rules anyway? Nathan makes it his personal mission to find a way to embarrass Simon, buying a big pack of dick-shaped straws and hireling a fireman stripper who traps Simon between his meaty thighs and keeps making references to his ”thick hose”. The gang's all there plus some of Simon’s work-friends from that tech-place that Nathan still doesn’t know the purpose of. They dance and drink and watch Simon’s home-videos on one of those old-school projectors that the teachers always brought in when they were too tired or hungover to have a proper lesson. They laugh at the older videos, the ones from community service where Nathan is calling him a melonfucker and passionately flipping him off. Alisha shouts out, ”Are you kidding me, Nathan, you had it the whole time?!” when they get to the video of Nathan going around accusing people of stealing his weed only to find it later in his shoe. Nathan just laughs when she flicks her vodka and coke mixture his way, opening his mouth trying to get some of it in his mouth. He’s feeling increasingly buzzed and a part of him, the part of him that gets increasingly horny from alcohol, just wants to steal Simon away and pull him into some dark corner, pushing their mouths together and letting his hands travel to God knows where.

 

”Is this some kinda vlog or somethin’?” Kelly shouts as the video transitions into an unusual shot of Simon filming himself, looking right into the lens of the camera like he’s on some sort of reality TV show.

 

”I think there is something weird going on with Nathan.” He declares and Nathan gives present Simon a curious look, earning him a mysterious smile in return.

 

He hasn’t seen this video before but if he had to guess he’d say that Simon looks eighteen, maybe nineteen. His hair is all combed down and you can see the orange jumpsuit behind him on the bed. The lighting is poor but it’s clear that he’s filming in his old room and Nathan smirks thinking about how sometimes he’d hide in there while Simons parents walked in wondering where all those suspicious sounds where coming from.

 

Video-Simon takes a deep breath and Nathan can’t help but think that he’s kinda cute when he’s all anxious and worrisome.

 

”He hasn’t called me a pedophile all week and yesterday he said I had a ”cheeky smile” before he-” Simon cuts himself off but Nathan remembers it all too well.

 

”I slapped that tight little bum of his!” He fills in for the group who, by now, are folding themselves in hysterical laughter.

 

Simon from the video is dead serious however, his next words a clear warning, ”I think he’s planning something, I don’t know what yet but if I disappear or worse… you know where to look.”

 

Nathan opens his mouth in a look of wide disbelief, ”You thought I was planning to murder you?!”

 

Simon starts blushing beside him and just mumbles, ”keep watching.”

 

Nathan lets out a laugh, giving his boyfriend, _fiancé_ , a light push on the shoulder before turning his look back to the video.

 

The scene cuts to the empty locker room in the Community Center and this time Simon is actually wearing the orange jumpsuit, seemingly having filmed the video right after their work-day ended.

 

”So I might have made some miscalculations,” he admits, his eyes avoiding the camera like he’s talking to a real person and doesn’t want to meet their look.

 

”It appears as if Nathan is not out to kill me.”

 

Snickers continue through the room and someone (Nathan think it’s Curtis) shouts, ”You think, Simon?”

 

”He kissed me today so uh,” teenage Simon turns bright red, nervously twiddling with his hands, ”so if I die, don’t blame him… I think.”

 

Nathan turns to Simon, the real Simon, who is starting to blush just like his video-counterpart.

 

”Really, that’s your takeaway here?” He says but Simon just leans into him, resting his drunken body against Nathan’s.

 

”Keep watching,” he repeats.

 

Nathan rolls his eyes but returns his look forward, watching Past-Simon silently thinking, making that ridiculous face that looks like he’s either shitting himself or trying to figure out the meaning of life.

 

”It’s weird,” he finally concludes, ”I didn’t think he liked me back, like that I mean.”

 

Their apartment has turned quiet now, their guests silently waiting in anticipation of what Simon is going to say next. _It really is weird_ , Nathan thinks. To see Simon’s side to things, his unfiltered reaction and reflection. Nathan himself remembers the day in a blur. He hadn’t meant to kiss Simon, it just kinda happened like everything in his life kinda just happened. They’d walked off to get some more cleaning supplies from the supply closet when Nathan just couldn’t take it anymore. The stolen glances, the shameless flirting, it had to get a resolution at one point, right? So that’s what he’d done, resolved the whole thing by walking up right behind the other boy, quietly waiting for the moment he’d turn around and get overwhelmed by Nathan’s naturally sex-inducing presence. Simon didn’t turn around however, he was busy comparing the labels of two different window cleaners, assessing which one was superior. Finally, Nathan had gotten sick of it, muttering out, ”Bloody hell, Barry,” before grabbing him by the shoulder and catching his lips in his.

 

”I didn’t think he liked me at all actually,” Past-Simon admits sheepishly, ”but I’m happy I was wrong.”

 

Finally, he looks into the lens, giving the Bachelor party crowd a brief smile before turning off the camera with a ‘click’.

 

Present-Simon leans back to watch Nathan’s reaction but he doesn’t have time to fully take it in as Nathan lunches forward, giving him a heated kiss and making the room erupt in a choir of ”Aww’s”.  

 

When he pulls back he’s stroking Simons jawline without even thinking about it and in turn Simon is giving him a shy smile, like he’s somehow embarrassed over the sweetest damn video that Nathan’s ever watched.

 

”What did I tell you about that rom-com shit?” He says, but he knows he doesn't mean it.

 

He knows he never wants Simon to stop being his sappy self, trying over and over again to make Nathan feel important and cared for. Trying to make him feel like he’s more than some annoying prick with poor impulse control and a constant need for validation. Nathan doesn't know what devil he made a deal with to deserve Simon but he doesn't care. If this is what it feels like to have sold your soul he's not complaining.

 

~~~

 

It’s three days until the wedding and he and Simon are fighting. For being the polar opposites that they are, it's a mystery that it doesn't happen more often. Sure, they’re always bickering and teasing but that stuff is never serious, just a part of the constant pull between the two. When they get into real arguments Nathan always hates it because every single time he thinks Simon will finally get to his senses and leave him. Every single time he feels broken, yelling out, ”Well if I’m so unreasonable why don’t you just fuck off like I know you want to!” Which of course makes it all worse because reassurance is the last thing you want to give to someone when you’re fighting. Simon always finds a way to reassure him anyway, yelling back that, ”I’m not gonna leave just because it gets hard, you know that.” And to that Nathan will un-clenches his fists, momentarily relaxing enough so that they can resolve whatever stupid disagreement they’re having.

 

”Just admit that you’re ashamed of me,” Simon spits and Nathan stares at him, horrified at the suggestion.

 

”Are you actually mental?!” He accuses, ”It’s him that I’m ashamed of if anyone.”

 

Simon shakes his head like he can’t accept it and it makes Nathan groan in frustration, ”who cares about he thinks anyway it’s not like-”

 

”I care,” Simon interrupts, his eyes so piercing that Nathan is afraid they might burn a hole in his soul or something, ”I care, shouldn’t that be enough?"

 

Nathan is quiet because the other man's voice has turned soft, has turned into a pleading rather than a warning. It makes his heart twist into a painful jumble and he knows he’ll have to give in.

 

”So what are you thinkin’ then?” He says sarcastically, ”I invite him for some tea and tell him it’s just sort of slipped my mind to tell him that I’m marrying another bloke?”

 

Simon shrugs, ”tea could be nice,” he offers sheepishly and Nathan can’t help but let a faint smile find its way to his lips.

 

”I love you, you know that, right?”

 

He doesn’t say it nearly as many times as the thought crosses his mind, but he hopes that when Simon responds, ”I know,” that he truly means it.

 

Short of an hour later someone is knocking hard on the door and Nathan forces himself to sit up from the couch and walk over to the little hallway. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of their own apartment, panically wondering if his dad will make some insulting joke about the cracks in the ceiling or the coffee table held up by a fourth leg made up of taped-together beer cans (Nathan’s proud idea).

 

”Nathan,” his dad greets when he opens the door, ”so I’m finally getting a look at the place then?”

 

They don’t embrace but they nod towards each other, their own non-physical way of acknowledgment. Nathan tells him to get in, take a look around while he prepares the tea. He secretly hopes his dad might stumble upon his and Simon’s joint bedroom, that he can figure it all out on his own, taking away some of the heavy responsibility currently resting on his shoulders.

 

”You like yer tea black or green?” He shouts from the kitchen while weighing a pack of earl gray and chamomile in both of his hands.

 

”Whatever is fine,” his father responds so Nathan picks the green option, hoping it might have a calming effect on both of them in case things go to shit like they so often do when two Young’s are in the same room.

 

He listens to Simon stepping out of the bedroom, greeting his dad like they're in some sort of professional board meeting or something, stating his last name and everything. They start talking about work and it’s clear that his dad understands tech-stuff as little as Nathan does. He seems appreciative however at the fact that Simon pays for much of the apartment and Nathan hopes it bodes well for the future.

 

The kettle turns off with a familiar click and Nathan walks out to tell the two of them that the tea is ready.

 

”I see you’ve met Barry,” he smiles when he walks up to them and his dad gives Simon a steady pat on the back.

 

”He’s a nice fella alright,” he says and Nathan is doing his best stifling his laughter at the panic in Simon’s eyes, ”seems like a decent roommate.”

 

_Right. Roommates._

 

”I’m going to the store to get some milk for the tea, do you want anything Nathan?”

 

Simon’s voice is robotic and deprived of any passion or sincerity. He’s a shit actor but Nathan’s dad doesn't seem to bat an eye at the obviously rehearsed line. The two of them decided beforehand that Simon would give Nathan some alone time to explain the whole wedding situation. If it goes well, Simon can come and receive all the customary congratulations that accompany any wedding invitation and if it doesn't, he’ll help Nathan kick his father's ass. (They didn’t exactly decide upon that part but Nathan hopes it’s implied)

 

The two of them, Nathan and his father, sit down in the kitchen and Nathan pours up the hot water in their mismatched, secondhand mugs. Nathan snatched his favorite for himself, a screeching blue one with a smiling cow on it. His father, of course, gets the famous, ”World’s Okayest Dad” mug to which he responds, ”huh, cute.”

 

They sit quietly for a while, blowing cold air at the tea which is yet to have had any calming effects at all. Nathan is anxiously drumming his thumb against the table, knowing he can’t put this show on for much longer.

 

”So, dad,” he finally says, ”you doing anything special Saturday?”

 

His father raises an eyebrow, takes a careful sip at the tea while thinking over the question.

 

”I was planning to do some grocery shopping,” he says which Nathan translates to, ” _I was planning on emptying the liquor section at the local Tesco and spend the evening tragically drunk and alone.”_

 

Nathan nods, hastily standing up to open the cabinet above the sink. He’s looking for honey, or sugar, or anything that can distract either of them from this dreadful conversation. He finds a packet of crumpets way past the expiration date and offers them up to the older man.

 

”I’m okay,” his dad responds, eyeing him suspiciously now, ”why do I feel like yer hidin’ something from me?”

 

Nathan laughs nervously and if that isn’t a dead giveaway already, the way the crumpets slip out of his shaking hands, landing with a dry crash on the floor, is. Thankfully enough, Simon picks that moment to return from the store, the sound of his sneakers in the hallway angel music to Nathan’s ears.

 

”I’ll be back, I just have to… milk, I need the milk!” He excuses himself, practically running into Simon's arms.

 

”That bad?” Simon whispers when Nathan hides his face in the fabric of his jacket, holding him tight like he’s never planning on letting go.

 

”I’m such a pussy, I can’t make myself say it,” Nathan mumbles into his neck and Simon lets out a tired sigh like he was expecting this all along.

 

”Can you…” Nathan whispers hesitantly, hoping that eavesdropping isn’t on the list of morally questionable things his father is willing to do, ”Can you come with?”

 

Simon nods and when they get into the kitchen, Nathan’s father happily exclaims, ”Milk-man! Nathan was just saying something about Saturday, do you know what he’s on about?”

 

”I might have an idea,” Simon says, sitting down and giving Nathan a hesitant look, not wanting to step on any unspoken boundaries.

 

”I’m sort of getting married, dad.” Nathan says because if he puts this off for one more second he might not only break himself but Simon as well.

 

His father almost chokes on his tea, coughing a handful of times before he can get out a proper response.

 

”Married?! Nathan, that’s amazing,” his eyes are wild in bewilderment but his words seem sincere and it puts Nathan somewhat at ease.

 

”Yer not being funny or nothin’, this is really happening?”

 

”No dad, for once in my life I’m not being funny.”

 

”Wow,” the gray-haired man breathes out, leaning back in the chair, ”so where is the future Mrs.Young? When do I get to meet her?”

 

Simon’s hand finds his under the table almost like he’s been anticipating the question ever since they sat down. And to be fair, he probably has, both of them knowing it was inevitable to avoid.  

 

”Um, she might not be what you expect,” Nathan warns and Simon raises an eyebrow at him.

 

”What, is she retarded or something?” His dad asks, oblivious, ”Sorry, mentally handicapped,” he corrects.

 

”No,” Simon says firmly and Nathan thinks he sounds a tad bit offended which is admittedly hilarious.

 

”I just mean that she’s not very…lady-like,” Nathan tries to clarify but it doesn’t seem to help his dad understand the situation one bit better.

 

”Does she got a massive unibrow?” He asks, a smile on his worn down face that Nathan hopes isn’t too mocking, ”Come on, just tell me what’s wrong with her.”

 

”There’s nothing wrong with her,” Nathan assures, ”well except for the fact that half her teeth are missing so she can only communicate using these gurgling sounds.”

 

He puts out his fingers in front of his mouth like they’re some sort of vampire teeth and makes a wet hissing sound. Simon has completely given up at this point, the hand that’s not intertwined with Nathan’s rubbing at his forehead like his magically trying to cure the meanest headache of his life.

 

Nathan clears his throat, feeling a bit bad for dragging it all out like this, ”I’m sorry, I’ll stop screwing around” he tells Simon even though his look is pointed at his dad.

 

”She- um, the person I’m marrying, it isn’t some mutated half-zombie,” he sighs, ”It’s Simon.”

 

He can barely hear his father's sharp intake of breath over the sound of his own heart drumming in his ears. His squeezing Simon’s hand to a point that it must hurt but Simon lets him. It’s a good pain, the type of pain that tells you when something is important.

 

~~~

 

Nathan is twenty-six when he’s walking down the aisle, his arm firmly locked together with Simon’s. His Simon. His husband. Well, they’re not there yet, but Nathan will be damned before he lets anything get in the way of him getting married. Nothing is allowed to fuck with him today (besides Simon of course but that's for later). The church isn’t some extravagant cathedral with statues of a bleeding Jesus in every corner. It’s rustic with painted windows and wooden seats and it’s just what the two of them need. Something simple, something uncomplicated. Curtis, a man of many secret talents, have been helping with organizing, something he’s gotten quite good at ever since he took over the juniors running club. Alisha’s been occupied fixing everyone's outfits and hair. She’s tried, multiple times, to put some concealer on Nathan’s face but he’s managed to avoid her attacks like the skillful ninja that he so obviously is. She’s put him in a black suit and tie, said it makes him look elegant, paired with shoes that came with a price tag that almost made him faint. Simon is wearing the same muted black suit but with an icy blue bow that matches the color of his eyes. He’s stunning and Nathan can’t help but give him a wide, toothy smile every time he looks at him. To think that all of that is going to be his forever is pure madness. He feels like a kid on Christmas who just caught Santa going down the chimney, realizing that all the stories were true all along. Magic is real and soulmates aren’t just a thing secluded for fairytales anymore.

 

On Simon’s side of the aisle sits his parents in coordinated blue along with his sister who seems to be going through some sort of emo-phase, rocking a wonderful black dress paired with skull-shaped earrings. He reminds himself to go chat with her over some cake since she seems to be the only one in Simons family who hasn’t totally disregarded him yet. There are also a handful of wrinkled relatives sitting down in the wooden booths and work friends that Nathan can’t bother to remember the names of. He’s happy that they're there even if it's not for him. For once, he's okay with sharing the attention.

 

Nathan’s side is notably less crowded. His mom and her werewolf-boyfriend are sitting in the front with a pack of paper towels between them. The gang is there too, having decided to sit where there was more room and subsequently taking the spots of his no-show relatives. He’s not surprised so many of them declined, traditional Irish Catholicism runs in the family after all, but still, some naive part of him thought they might have put all that homophobic shit aside just for him. He spots his dad somewhere in the back, probably avoiding Nathan’s mom, and gives him a little wave, another one of their silent greetings. He’s bothered to dress up for the occasion and Nathan thinks he’s even used wax or something in his hair, trying his best to tame those wild locks of hair that he so obviously passed on to his son.

 

”Are you ready?” Simon whispers when the piano fades out and they’re one step away from the altar.

 

”I might shit myself, but other than that I’m fine.”

 

The guests sit down and the priest starts his speech about God, or commitment, or whatever religious stuff that are customary at weddings. Nathan can’t hear a word that’s being said because he’s taking in every inch of Simon's face, wanting to drink it all in like a wine that's been aged since the birth of the universe. He wants to have every pore, every eyelash, memorized perfectly for the moments when he’s all alone again. He wants to be able to remember Simon to the point where he’s able to manifest him out of thin air. A ghost of the past, as addictive as it is heart-wrenching.

 

”Now, I believe the couple has prepared their own wedding vows.”

 

Simon nudges him discreetly and, oh right, Nathan remembers that it’s his turn to begin. He fiddles with the papers hidden away in his pocket, clears his throat dramatically and reads,

 

”When I was making these vows I had to fight the urge to force you to write them for me,”

 

Soft laughter erupts in the room and Nathan looks up from his card, giving their guests a sheepish grin. He forgot that they were there for a second but their faces, their looks of support, spreads a strange warmth in his chest.

 

“I was never much for romantic words and grand gestures but even when I didn’t believe that love was real, that it could be beautiful and pure, I still believed in you.”

 

The crowd is holding their breath and Simon is looking at him like he doesn't know if he wants to cry or take him away to the nearest toilet and start their honeymoon early.

 

”And I vow never to stop believing in you,” Nathan continues, his voice trembling slightly, ”I vow that every moment of our lives together will be worth it, and I vow, that for as long as I am breathing I will love you.”

 

Nathan closes his eyes, forcing away the tears threatening to grow in his eyes. He can't look at anyone right now, a stupid part of him afraid that they'll laugh and mock him like he always does when someone else is showing any sign of vulnerability. It would be just his luck to have something go wrong in the middle of his own wedding. But when he opens his eyes again he sees nothing but genuine smiles and teary eyes looking at him like he's Jesus resurrected. His mom seems to have already gone through half of the pack with paper towels and even his dad is discreetly wiping away the tears running down his cheeks.

 

Simon takes a shaky breath, ”Nathan Young,” he says, bringing back Nathan to reality like so many times before, ”you are insane in the loveliest way possible.”

 

Nathan breaks there and then, the words echoing from a past so far away that it makes his eyes sting. It’s not just the words in themselves but more the fact that Simon didn’t forget just as Nathan didn't either. He’s brought back to their apartment at a time when he was just figuring his life out, unemployed and ashamed of every piece of himself. He remembered Simon being there every step of the way, just like he’s always been, just as he is today.

 

”And I vow, I promise, to nurture that insanity because it’s what made me fall in love with you in the first place.”

 

Nathan sniffles, _actually sniffles_ , and desperately tries to dry his eyes with the expensive arm of his suit.

 

”I promise to love you beyond all reason or ideal, I promise to never forget how lucky I am to have found you and I promise that every time you break apart I will be there to mend the pieces together, for our love is patient and knows no boundaries.”

 

They exchange rings and Nathan’s hand is shaking so much that Simon has to steady it, hold it firmly while he slides the cool silver onto his finger.

 

When the priest finally says ”It is my pleasure to now pronounce you partners in life, you may kiss the groom,” Nathan spares no time to waste.

 

He falls into Simon, his cheeks still wet and his entire body shaking from adrenaline, and feels a calm rush over him when he’s held together by a strong pair of arms. When their lips meet it doesn't feel new, it feels familiar and safe, like the thousand kisses before it. And among all his overstimulated senses; The smell of freshly picked violet flowers and newly bought cologne. The sound of his mother’s sedated weeping and the crowd’s silent watching. The taste of heat, and mint, and _Simon,_  on his mouth. Among it all he manages to think one last thought, the words that will immortalize this moment for decades, centuries to come;

 

_This is the sweetest pain I’ll ever know._

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this fic was basically me just projecting all my family/internalized-homophobia/vulnerability issues onto Nathan and then deciding that it doesn't matter how screwed up you are, you still deserve love. It actually made me really emo because the thought that anyone would marry my dysfunctional ass hadn't crossed my mind yet and this fic helped me realize that its an actual possibility for me to eventually find love. (I'm so corny, I know).
> 
> So anyway, thanks for reading this self-indulgent shit, I love yall <3<3


End file.
